Connections Are More Dangerous Than Lies
by littlelillium
Summary: Beginning in Old Hungary, a dying Viktor meets the woman who will be the mother of Sonja.
1. The War Lord & The Huntress

**The Warlord & The Huntress**

Being outside he almost breathed the snowflakes that fell from the night sky. The icy cold burnt his failing lungs, he listened to the sound of himself wheezing, struggling for breath. It had become all too familiar, this broken rhythm of sickness and age, the tightness in his chest, the pain. Slightly off, but echoing the wishing of a comforting regularity, a perfection, a swinging of the pendulum of time. It was an inhale, and then an exhale. Like the swing of a swordsman, the marching onto conquest, the galloping of a war mount, lovemaking, drinking to folk songs. Many things he had once enjoyed, but no longer had the strength.

Even in this fresh outside air, he still could not get rid of the sour taste in his mouth. It was the taste of toxicity, infection and of course, inevitably, death. Fene, the demon of illness, had found him. Nevertheless, he endured the pain and the warnings of his healer, just to enjoy the night sky, when the lights had gone, the day's end, to stare up at those stars, to know serenity. He wanted to enjoy their twinkling beauty, a promise of a blissful afterlife, and to breathe in the sweet smells of the woodland.

Viktor had been a handsome man in his youth, fair of hair, bright of eyes. He had nobility to his features, a commanding strength to his presence and a rare occasion of a smile that could be heartwarming. He was not a big man and not inclined to a hulking stature like many men who took up arms. However, he was a natural leader and fighter. He would have others believe he came from a long line of rulers, a pure and royal bloodline, but in reality, he had been born from a rape, to an abusive, noble father and a serving girl, in the woods. He had progressed to his position of warlord and earned his respect through a clever mind, ruthlessness, courage that bordered on stupidity and pure strength of character. In short, it was not the dog in the fight; it was the fight in the dog, as they would say.

Now Viktor was dying. His body soul, the Hungarian lelek of breath, was tired. His face was pale, his lips white. His face, his body, was sinking and wasting. Often he thought of falling on his sword, to die an honorable death. He longed to go into battle again. He did not want to die a crippled shell of a man, shaking in his own waste, screaming in pain, without dignity. No one would mourn him. His thoughts lately had turned to the morbid; he had moved and passed denial into a bitter, cruel acceptance. When he was not reminiscing, he thought of what would happen when he crossed the veil between the living and his ancestors.

Not being an overly religious man, living by blood and steel, he still wanted to believe there was something after this suffering, this gory mess of a life. He hoped to move on to the Otherworld, Tulvilag: home of the Gods, the Father Sun, the Lady Moon, where all good souls found eternal peace. However, in his heart, he knew he would become part of the Underworld, Alvilag: a place for the souls of people who were undiscernibly cruel and evil in their lives to receive punishment.

Viktor was over proud of his accomplishments, often arrogant, but one thing he regretted was never making time for an heir, never settling with one woman and also a nasty streak he had always possessed, a cruel feeling of superiority, that the world owed him. He had killed many men and bedded many women, but he often felt empty and worthless, without accomplishment, not that he would ever let anyone know the truth of it. Sometimes he would give anything to have a few years of health, to enjoy the pleasures a life of violence had deprived him.

He was stuck daydreaming again, he thought bitterly. He continued to walk like a ghost through the woods, in robes, shawls and furs. Wrapped like a newborn, the full moon led his way. He heard the sound of an arrow let fly and was instantly wary. There was unrest in Old Hungary, and many tales of late of indiscriminate slaughter and disease. The works of evil spirits were the clan's whispers. He wondered if they were here now to take him. Viktor headed towards the sound. Perhaps he could die of an arrow to the heart, protecting his hill fort. The idea was tempting, but still not the death that Viktor wanted.

Viktor finally came in contact of the author of the sound. It was a woman with hair thick, long and braided, the color of the raven, standing in a clearing. She had her back facing him; she was a petite thing under the furs that protected her from the cold. She had many rabbits slung over her back, tied by their feet to each other and a pheasant. She had shot a large wolf between the eyes and Viktor watched silently as she proceeded to pull out the arrow through the wolves' skull. She thanked the animal and showed it respect, and then with her crude hunting knife she skinned the beast. It was a bloody work, but she made it look almost elegant, precise and robotic, and when she was done, she rolled the bloody fur & skin and placed it in a knapsack, which appeared to be jammed full with herbs and other plants.

The woman went to continue to walk on deeper into the forest when Viktor summoned his strained voice to say, "You possess a remarkable aim, Huntress." She turned with a start, holding her knife out towards him. Then, recognizing who he was, she dropped her knife and dropped to her knee in the snow in reverence. Viktor also recognized her as a woman who had come to work at the hill fort: cooking, cleaning, and tending to the warriors, to the stables. He could not remember her name, but remembered her beauty as he had admired it once before. She was very young, lithe of body, a slender, dark beauty with haunting eyes and full sensuous lips.

"Apologies, my Lord." She murmured. Her voice was clear and did not portray the nervousness that her body did. At her discomfort, Viktor smiled, for the first time in a long time, and then quickly banished this expression. He motioned for her to stand. She collected her knife and stood with a grace to her movements.

"Do not apologize; lately there is a call for caution. We live in wild, untamed times," Viktor reassured her, but still in a commanding tone. She nodded her head slightly in acceptance. "What is your name and reasons for hunting, girl?" He questioned.

She replied, still with her head bowed. "My name is Ilona Imre, I am collecting ingredients for the Taltos, the Shaman. I am also collecting food," Viktor decided he enjoyed listening to her voice, unlike the other slaves and servants, she was well spoken, not inclined to Hungarian gutter talk, "And I am hunting for pelts, your leatherworker will take them if they are suitable and to his liking and needs. Our people fear the wolf, my Lord. They say they engage in bloody murder, on our women and the children. I merely think they are animals, my Lord and we have all become accustomed to superstition." She instantly regretted what she had said and quickly added, to keep her head, "My apologies again."

Viktor chuckled at her remark. The restrained laughter triggered a coughing fit. He keeled over as he became dizzy, he could not catch his breath, and his lungs seized up and refused to admit air. Ilona moved to his side in a flash, putting her arm around his waist, she offered him a drink from her water skin. Viktor took a few mouthfuls, realizing it was not water, but something stronger by the taste, a cheap brew of a kind. It soothed his throat, warmed his chest and he was able to catch his breath. He felt weak, dizzy and like he was going to vomit. Was this the night he would die? He looked to the woman Ilona who supported him, her warmth; the pressing of her body against his was reassuring.

"May I please suggest you return to your quarters, my Lord? The air is harsh tonight." Her voice rang with genuine concern, but her eyes reflected a worry of insulting him.

"Come with me and take me there, I deem your quarry worthy for the night. Besides, the wolves might take their revenge on you, Huntress." He grinned at his jest, and she returned to him a nervous smile.

She was not sure what to say in response, so she murmured, "Your will, My Lord," and turned to look towards the direction of the settlement, which the towering hill fort of Viktor the Warlord and his army dominated.

They walked slowly through the snow and spoke not at all. Ilona's hand rested on Viktor's waist, supporting him, his rested on her hipbone. They moved through the settlement, all lights were out, the quietness all-consuming, "Peaceful." murmured Viktor. Ilona found the silence in this small town unnerving, like this situation of aiding the most powerful man, she knew to bed.

The dwellings were quaint, the work of carpentry, not masonry. There were raised platforms, roundhouses, long houses, granary huts and pits for storage. Graves, shrines and offerings were everywhere. There was no order to them, this clan had once been nomadic, but had settled here for some time now under Viktor's rule. They made it up the hill towards the hill fort, where warriors on guard dressed in new steel armor came to attention and saluted in Viktor's presence, murmuring appropriate titles and showing respect. Viktor ignored them as if they were not there. The odd couple continued through the gates as they opened.

The hill fort was elaborate, with guardhouses and defended entrances, accommodation for the people when there were times of conflict. Ilona guided Viktor towards his roundhouse, letting go of him to open the door then helping him inside. The fire in the room was low, as were the candles. Ilona laid her rabbits, bow, quiver and pheasant on the ground. As Viktor collapsed onto his raised wooden bed, Ilona took off his unnecessary, uncomfortable garments, and then covered him in furs, "We must get you warm, silly gyermek." She said, as if he was a sick child. Viktor wanted to ark up about her manner, but could not summon the strength to. Ilona proceeded to add kindling and wood to the fire. She lit the candles that had gone out and lit new ones.

Viktor watched her as intently as he could, his eyes were half closed. "The Taltos is on a journey of the spirit, my Lord. I can call on him for assistance, but he would be that drugged he probably would not aid you all that much." Ilona informed him.

"I do not want him here anyway. He will only treat me like a disobedient child, as you have." Ilona saw the anger that he projected towards her, but also could feel a deep-seated frustration inside him. She knew he could have her killed if he wanted to, but knew he would not.

"I meant no insult, my lord. May I speak honestly with you without fear of punishment?" Ilona sat on the end of his bed, her body language and facial expression one of humility and humbleness.

"What an odd question. Yes, you may, I fear not your words, Huntress." Viktor responded, feeling weak. This whole night to him felt surreal.

"If my words, thoughts and actions tonight have not portrayed anything but respect, I am regretful. When I saw you out in the forest, in the cold, I thought you stupid. These thoughts fear driven. If you were to die now, there would be such unrest. Under your rule, my nephew and I have enjoyed as much peace as we have in a long time. I was selfish in thinking in such a way, I am sure you grow tired of being sick and like the old, revered bear you move away from your family to die with honor."

As Ilona spoke she studied the man before her, she looked beyond his bloodshot eyes and sickly complexion, stared into his soul and felt regret, hatred, hunger for power. What a complexity, she thought. She respected this man as she would any predator. He was a wild thing, now caged by his illness, and it was breaking his spirit. Death would set him free. "You are nothing but a stupid girl. You know nothing of anything." Viktor snapped back, beginning to cough again. Ilona realized she had hit a nerve. She rose from the bed and set a pot of water to boil on the fire. Viktor caught his breath again, "Don't turn your back on me." There were tears of pain in his eyes. Everything in him ached.

"I was putting on the water for hot steam, my Lord, to soothe your lungs and to boil some water to brew some tea to ease your pain." Ilona kneeled on the hard wood floor before his bed. "Do you not wish for this?" Viktor did not reply, but nodded, closing his eyes, breathing shallow. Ilona rose and removed some dry infusions of herbs and plants the Taltos had stored in a pouch on the table. She placed some chamomile and lavender in a cup, also adding a sedative root powder to the mix. She hoped this would help him sleep, also perhaps hinder some of his pain. The water had boiled & she added some to the tea, mixing it. She came to his side, offering it to his lips. Viktor drank slowly first, but as it cooled he took it in his own hands and drank it. Ilona watched him shake as he placed the cup down.

"Do not pity me; I do not need the pity of one such as you." He murmured.

"I do not; you have lived a full life. You are blessed. It is a rare day that one will live to your age. Be grateful, Old Bear." Ilona responded and she meant it. She had lost her brother almost two years ago, as a soldier in Viktor's army. He was only 20 but he had played the role of her father, mother and best friend. Now all the family she had left was her nephew, Elek. Distracted by her grief, Ilona collected her things and began to blow the candles out to leave.

"Don't leave." Viktor slurred, the tea taking an affect. He meant to command her, but it came out as a small and sad statement. Lonely, bitter old man, Ilona thought. She had the right to leave him here and never come back. Take Elek and go somewhere safe. He was going to die anyway and Ilona did not want to be here for the chaos that would follow, as the men would fight to have power and control over the armies and people.

Not certain if it was pity or compassion, Ilona dropped her things and climbed up to sit next to him in bed. He lent his head into her side and Ilona awkwardly put her arm around him. "Shall I talk to you, read to you, sing to you or just sit here, my Lord?" Ilona said, trying to portray her annoyance, but the words came out emotionless and sterile.

"You can read?" Viktor was still awake, slurring his words, amused by his jibe.

"Yes, I can read most Latin, and some Hungarian," Ilona retorted back, proudly. "I do live with the Shaman anyway, he needs someone to read his scripts when he is hanging from the ceiling upside down or slaughtering goats." Ilona said with a giggle. A small smile graced Viktor's features at the jest, he enjoyed the way her ribcage vibrated with her amusement most of all.

Ilona looked down at him smiling, and continued to smile herself. "Shall I sing a lullaby, my Lord?" Viktor held her hand. His hands were so cold. Ilona was tempted to recoil, but stayed still and frowned instead.

"I suppose that will do." He sighed.

Ilona smiled once more, "Okay, I will sing the Other World." It was one of Elek's favorites and she knew it well.

_"King of the Wind, King of the Wind, who is it swinging you to and fro? With a long low swing and a sweet low croon, loving words of a mother's rune. King of the Sun, King of the Sun, who is it swinging you to and fro? I think it is the Dawn Mother, the Dawn Mother. The woman that looks on the gulf from the lowest stair. And swings the green world upward by her leagues of moonlight hair. Lord of War, Lord of War, who swing you and the Dawn Mother to and fro?_

_It is he whose faintest thought is a world afar. It is he whose wish is a pure white stag. It is he, the Golden Father, to whom you and I and all things flow. The Golden Father, the Golden Father. It is only a little child that you are, but as this blossom has roots in the depths of the sky, so you are one with the Other World. Tiny was the child that you are, my morning star, from the Other World, the Other World."_

Ilona looked down to see that Viktor had already fallen asleep. He would have looked peaceful for once, if his breathing were not so loud and haggard. She knew the signs. She knew death would be on him. "I'll meet you in the forest again, War Lord, when it is time for you to die. When your soul comes to judgment, may Hadur plead your case, bless you." Ilona murmured quietly, invoking the War God for his trial. With that, she stoked the fire, blew the candles out and collected her things, leaving Viktor's dwelling quietly.

As she moved through the fort grounds, one soldier spoke to her, "Come to my bed, Illy."

Ilona recognized him as one of her late brother's friends, so instead of giving him an appropriate insult in response, or a death stare, she merely said. "My nephew needs me, Andras." She did not even turn to look at him. The rest of the walk through the fort, through the gates and back home to the Shaman's hut was bitterly cold and tiring, but Ilona's mind wandered other places.

She opened the door to the crude hut. The Shaman Janos lay on his bedroll in the corner, his eyelids flickering rapidly; every so often he twitched and would mutter words with no meaning. Ilona was used to this strange behavior. She dropped her things, stripped off to her underclothes, and went straight to the fire to lay down on her bedroll with her eight-year-old nephew Elek who slept soundly. She pulled a blanket over them both and cuddled him, giving him a kiss on the forehead, "Precious thing." Elek looked up at her sleepily, smiling dreamily and then soon was fast asleep. Ilona realized how truly exhausted she was and not long after she had closed her eyes, and settled her mind, she was asleep.


	2. I Never Cared Much For Flowers

**I Never Cared Much For Flowers**

_"One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun—which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so." - The Secret Garden_

"Come with me." Ilona whispered to Viktor. She had come to visit the old Warlord many times through the several weeks that had been and gone. He had needed someone to talk to, someone to pass on his legacy, someone who would not think him weak, and he had found her. She listened to him as he told her of his life, of his ambition, his hopes, and his dreams. She did not flinch and she did not budge. They had become the most unusual of friends. They were the unlikely ones. She was compassionate, where he had led his life ruthlessly. She nurtured and cherished life in the world, thanking every flower, tree, plant and animals for their bounty, where he had taken life for his own gain over the years. However, there was an understanding they shared between them that surpassed there moral barriers, a comfort they had found in each other. It was certain honesty. She did not fear him and he respected her.

"Where will you take me, insolent girl?" Viktor asked, sitting on the edge of his bed as Ilona combed his long grey hair and dressed him in furs, washing his face for him and putting his boots on.

"It is not too far to walk, I must take you to my garden before you die!" Ilona said impatiently.

"What's so special about this garden? Why do I put up with your need to harass me? You drag a man from bed in the early hours of the morning." Viktor sighed.

"It's magic. That is what. And you love my visits!" Ilona said haughtily, her hands on her hips.

"Will you want to bury me in the garden?"

Ilona laughed deeply, "No! You would spoil the plants and make my flowers weep. It would be a shame." Viktor laughed in turn, this time without a cough. Ilona was not sure if he was improving or his body was further decaying, but she knew that the laughter, fresh air and company were improving his mindset. He was unbearable to be around as he was in the early days of their meeting, he had become more agreeable and began to open his mind to the ideas and knowledge that Ilona discussed with him.

Ilona helped Viktor rise from bed, and they left the roundhouse quietly. Few warriors stood on guard. One of the men was Andras. He seemed to prefer the night shift. A romance had begun to bud with the strong Andras and Ilona, she was not sure if she loved him like he loved her, but she certainly desired him and knew he would make a good husband. "How are you, my Lord?" Andras called, as his two companions stood to his attention. Ilona let go of Viktor so he could stand by himself and keep some dignity in front of his men. Andras winked at Ilona cheekily.

"I am well. Continue with your work." Viktor said gruffly, then Ilona, spying his weakness, grabbed a hold of him once more, letting his arm fall around her shoulders, she waved her hand to Andras and they moved on through the gates, through the settlement and away from civilization, as they knew it. Most of the snows of the winter had melted, as the season changed to spring. Even in the darkness, new growth could be seen, the mating calls of different birds and animals could be heard and the crying of young.

"This is my favorite time of the year." Ilona stated. Viktor did not know what to say, he had never given much thought to the seasons, seeing them as only a one of the ways that time let him know it was passing and the world changing around him.

"The garden is not much farther now, just into the woodland my Lord." Dawn was coming as they walked and when Viktor came to see Ilona & the Shaman's garden the morning light bathed it. It was a beautiful, small clearing. Many herbs and plants filled the garden. The trees of oak, beech, birch and fir, watched over and guarded the garden. A few cherry tart trees grew, a relatively new species, which were flowering in pink and white. Daisies, hellebores, tulips and many other flowers were growing wildly and abundantly, of many different colors. Herbs for medicinal use of all kinds grew neatly and had labels which we small signs or rocks. It was amazing, the colors, and the natural beauty. Everything had come up green after the winter, looking well tended. A doe grazed quietly on the grass in the clearly, while her new fawn lay asleep near her. She looked up to watch them, but recognizing Ilona, continued to nibble on the grass.

Viktor was speechless for a short while, taking it in. Ilona let go of him as he walked around the garden, drinking in the sight and smells of the place. "I did not know this was here." He said quietly.

"You never wondered where the flowers and the herbs came from for the settlement." Ilona asked and Viktor shook his head,

"I never cared much for flowers." Ilona helped him sit down in the middle of the garden, "Janos brought the seeds with him, and what we did not have, we soon found in the woods again. To look after yourself and the people, we needed this. Janos told me he had asked you." Ilona said as her brow furrowed.

"He asked if he could have some more land and I said yes. I never cared for what he would do with it, but I am grateful for all this." Viktor admitted, gripping the grass underneath his hands. He closed his eyes and Ilona spoke no more, leaving him to his peace. When he brought his wall down, she did not push him too far, she wanted his mind to heal, to let go of the pain and hate.

After a long while, Ilona reached into her bag and brought out some pieces of old bread. The noise roused Viktor and he looked at her. "Would you like to feed the deer?" Ilona smiled, handing him some bread. She held out her hand flat and Viktor did the same. The mother doe, wary of Viktor, came to Ilona straight away and the fawn went to Viktor, eating the bread from his hand.

Viktor smiled genuinely, "They are very tame." He observed.

"Not really, they are usually very shy and snobby, but put up with me, especially when I have the food." Ilona explained with a little laugh. She was always laughing, always amused by something, Viktor had grown to enjoy it very much. She truly was an optimist, where as Viktor was a realist to the core, often to the point of being pessimistic.

"I hope to go to the places like this when I die," Viktor informed Ilona frankly, "Thank you for bringing me here." He murmured, ever so quietly, it was as if he had not said it at all, but Ilona felt it in her heart.

"You're welcome and you will my Lord, you will find peace. I know this. When one of your men dies, they sing your praises to the Gods." Ilona replied, knowing for the moment for what it was. It was deeply sentimental for them both. Viktor thought about his own passing, Ilona thought about her father, mother and brother in peace. She hoped they were happy and proud of her, keeping watch and protecting Elek. She knew she would see them again, but her heart was heavy, the pain often unbearable. She felt alone and the future felt so uncertain.

"We really should get you back soon," Ilona said after a few moments of quiet reflection, "They will all be in disorder without your guidance."

Viktor turned to her and said, "What guidance? I am asleep usually. They seem to listen to and follow the man Andras. He is a good man. I think I will leave him in charge when I go." Viktor choked out. This revelation shocked Ilona, but she hid it well and quickly nodded. "You're not pleased? You do not like him?"

Viktor studied Ilona, "He is a fine man. He is one of my late brother's friends. I have no quarrel with him, my Lord." She stood abruptly and reached out her hand to help Viktor up from the ground. She wondered if Viktor had knowledge of the relationship between her and Andras. In her mind, she wondered if the choice he had made was for her benefit also.

"Good. Not that your opinion mattered." Viktor got up by himself, putting his wall up to Ilona once more; he could not keep letting her in like this. He was usually very slow to trust, critical and harsh. He could not keep this up. They headed back to the settlement in silence. Ilona did not help him at all and he struggled but was too proud to admit it. He kept telling himself he did not need anyone else. His pride cost him in pain.


	3. Heads Will Roll

**Heads Will Roll**

Viktor and Ilona had been for a morning walk. When they came back to the settlement, everyone was awake and there was a flurry of action and the noise of the commotion. Elek ran to Ilona and hugged her, "Everything is okay, my cub." Ilona whispered, soothing his distress.

Viktor grabbed the nearest villager by the collar of his shirt; he was running away from the obvious area of the conflict, "I demand to know what is going on, coward!"

The villager stuttered, "My Lord, ah, my Lord, there's been a brawl between your men. The bone crusher, Andras, has killed three! He is in a rage of the blood. No one can calm him. He will just keep killing!" Viktor let the villager go and he fell to the ground. Still out of breath after his walk, Viktor strode quickly towards where the fight was happening, just outside the hill fort. Ilona told Elek to return home, he did not argue as of the urgency and fear in her voice, and headed off. She followed Viktor.

There seemed to be two groups that were fighting each other. Andras' group was largely outnumbered, but he continued to carve through men like the devil himself, swinging his battle-axe, growling like a beast, covered in blood and gore. "You will stop this butchering now!" Viktor commanded. Even as a sickly old man, he was frightening, shaking with rage. Everyone but Andras stopped, dropping their weapons in obedience. Andras was still trying to kill more men. Viktor picked up a great sword from the ground, wielding it with both his hands; he swung against Andras, protecting a man from beheading. Andras fought back against him, Viktor shook, and weak as a kitten, but then as if Andras' head cleared and he realized who Viktor was, he dropped his axe.

He dropped to his knees in front of Viktor, "I am sorry, my Lord," his voice was hoarse after the fighting, "But, Moric! He raped my sister!" Andras roared as he gestured to where the majority of the man's body lay. The rest of him was scattered.

"I see," Was all Viktor said as he surveyed the carnage around him. All of the men had backed away, until only Viktor stood there in a circle with Andras at his feet. All eyes were on them. After what seemed like forever, Viktor nodded to himself as if he had come to a decision after his considerations, "Moric deserved to die for his animal act, but none of the men who stood by him did. They knew no better. It was between only you two, or preferably, the matter should have come before me and I would have dealt with it appropriately. I am sorry Andras, you have been a good man, a steadfast warrior, honorable, you would have made a great leader," Andras did not see what was coming, he did not realize, but Ilona did and she had to stop herself from crying out in shock, "But you leave me no choice." Everything was dead silent as Viktor lifted the sword with all the strength he had left in him, and removed Andras' head from his shoulders in one neat swing.

Andras' head rolled away, his mouth and eyes open wide in shock. Blood spurted in great amounts from his severed neck, as he fell at Viktor's feet. These images would stay in Ilona's mind for years to come. Viktor dropped the sword and fell to his knees, weakened. A few of his men rushed in to help him up, but Viktor pushed them away to stand and summoning his strength and his voice once more, he addressed the crowd, "My people, hear this as a warning. Anyone who dares defy my laws and has open conflict here will meet a timely end. I do this for your own safety, for my love of my people. If you have a problem, come to me. Do not take it in your own hands or you will meet a violent death. I do not, will not, tolerate this! My mind is still strong and I will not lose control until I am cold and dead!" Viktor yelled. His voice did not break. He was calm, collected. The rage he had felt inside of him had fled as soon as he had punished Andras. There was many murmurs in the ground of "Yes, my lord" and many had fallen to their knees, all of Viktor's warriors had. Viktor was still fearsome; there was no doubt about it.

Viktor turned to leave, heading back to the hill fort. His warriors followed him obediently; the people went back to their homes quietly. A dead quietness fell over the settlement, families collecting the bodies of the fallen, until only Andras' sister Zsuzsanna sat, cradling his head in her arms, covered in blood and Ilona stood watching her. She knelt beside her and embraced her, they both cried, Zsuzsanna wailed in grief. Bruises covered her body; Ilona knew this would have been at the hands of her dead rapist. Ilona felt sick to her stomach. After a time, Ilona spoke, tears still falling from her eyes, "We must ready his provisions for his journey and bury him Zsuzi. Janos will be busy today, but I will speak to him. I want this to be done properly." She broke down again crying, both woman sat there, holding each other, Andras' head and body lying near them. Ilona pulled herself together and stood, "I'll be back okay."

She turned to leave as Zsuzsanna said, "He loved you, you know. He said he loved you more than anything." Ilona did not look back; she continued to head to her hut, tears spilling from her eyes. All of her hopes for the future felt like they had died with Andras.

Ilona entered the hut quietly, hoping that Janos would still be in. A few injured men sat around her home as Janos tended them; Elek sat happily chatting to them all."Hello, Aunty Illy," He said brightly, but when he saw that Ilona was upset, his face fell and he gave her the second cuddle of the day, "Don't cry Aunty Illy; you're too strong and pretty to cry."

Ilona smiled a sad smile and knelt to give the small boy Elek a kiss on the cheek, "No one is ever too strong or handsome to cry, little Lekky, don't let anyone tell you that, okay?" Elek nodded, and then went to sit and talk to a warrior who held a blood soaked rag over his hand.

Janos looked up from where he was stitching a man's stomach who lay on the dining table, a deep gash that would be prone to festering, "Greetings, dear Ilona." He murmured, cutting the twine with his teeth, covering the wound with salve and bandaging it with a poultice of herbs, sending the injured man on his way. He turned to appraise Ilona and Ilona looked at him. He was a broad man, with a mane of wild untamed hair, covered in piercings, tattoos and brands, and piercing eyes, the color of steel.

Janos opened his arms wide and Ilona fell into them as he embraced her, she cried into his shoulder, "He is dead Janos. Andras is dead. He killed him. Viktor killed him." Ilona spoke in a blur, a jumbled mess of tear stained, pained words.

Janos squeezed her tighter, "He is a monster Ilona. I told you this. He is a wild thing. He does not care about anyone. The sooner he is dead, the better. Andras was a good man. I would have been happy for you to be with him." Ilona pulled away from him and he wiped her tears away gently.

"Will you help Zsuzi and I bury him?" Ilona asked simply, choking the words out.

Janos nodded. "Once I tend to the living, I will tend to the dead. Many have come to ask me before you, but Andras will be the first, he was a friend of yours, so he is a friend of mine. Take Zsuzi and Andras out to the garden, I will meet you out there soon. I will find someone to look after little Elek."

* * *

><p>Andras' funeral was short and simple. Janos said the appropriate rites, Zsuzsanna, and Ilona repeated them. Many came to pay their respects in the garden. Viktor was not one of them. Incense burnt, a hole dug, Andras laid to rest in a blanket, food, precious metals and flowers thrown in with him. They sang songs of mourning. Ilona did not cry until everyone but Zsuzsanna and Janos had left. Janos collected the two women in a hug.<p>

"It is done. You may come stay with us if you like, Zsuzi." He said and Zsuzi nodded meekly, she was a broken shell of the young girl she once was.

"Thank you for your kindness, Shaman, and you too, Ilona." Ilona held Zsuzi's hand,

"It was the least we could do. He was a good man." Janos explained,

"That he was." Ilona murmured. She was still mostly in shock, but waves of anger were coming through her now. Viktor would pay.


	4. One Was Bitten By Bat

**One Was Bitten By Bat**

_"You must not give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they are strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky." - _Breakfast at Tiffany's

From afar to the untrained eye, the young man atop the horse moving through the woods seemed ordinary. However, up close, he was unnatural, immaculate. He was an oddity. His hair, skin and eyes, his whole being, saturated with color, contrasting against the world around him, painted from the brightest palette on the dull nightly background of grey, browns and blacks. His eyes were of the sharpest, definite blue, hair almost the color of blood and skin white as freshly fallen snow. Even his movements were inhuman, he gracefully sat in his saddle atop a glossy bay mare, with the slightest move of his hand or thigh, they moved as one, navigating any obstacles. Ilona's breath caught in her throat and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she saw this man. She sat with Elek underneath a tree and their wolf cross Kuvasz bitch Tika, who came and went as she pleased. She had graced them both with her presence tonight, coming to visit Janos, Ilona, Elek and Zsuzsanna at their evening meal and had come with Elek and Ilona for their after dinner walk.

Tika barked a few times, standing up from her resting position and standing in front of Elek protectively, as if she sensed danger. Ilona ran her hands through her gray white fur and she quieted down, still wary of the stranger. The man continued to walk his mare until he came before the young woman and child. Tika whimpered and Ilona shivered, where as Elek was more than fascinated with the man, "Are you a spirit, sir?" Elek questioned seriously, "Can you tell me how my papa is?" He looked up eagerly at the man who smiled kindly at him.

"Elek." Ilona whispered harshly as a warning, so the man could not hear. She held her dagger against her thigh. Ilona was ready to attack and protect if need be.

"Apologies son, I am as living as you, your mother, your dog, my mare or the forest around us," he gestured widely with his hands, then added sympathetically, "Although, I am sure your father fares well." He dipped his head in greeting to Ilona, "My Lady." He dismounted effortlessly and reached out his free hand to Ilona. Ilona stood up and she offered the hand that did not currently grip the knife. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly, Ilona felt his teeth graze the skin and his nostrils flare. His canines were sharp! Her heart beat faster, feeling as if it was to burst out of her chest. Her instincts were to run, but she stood still as he let go of her hand. He seemed flustered. There was a hunger in his eyes. Tika growled.

"Boy, will you be as kind as to take my horse to the stable, tend to her and feed her?" He turned his attention on Elek, flipping him a coin. Elek's eyes grew round and bright as he looked at the fortune he had caught in his fingertips,

"Yes, please take this man's horse to the stables." Ilona murmured. There was urgency in her voice.

"Can I ride her?" Elek said excitedly and the man smiled,

"Of course, boy. I shall help you up." He grabbed Elek around the waist and lifted him up into the saddle, another effortless action on his part. Elek looked unsure of what to do, so the man adjusted the stirrups and placed Elek's little feet in them, then put the reins in his hands appropriately, "She's quiet, gentle as a rocking horse. She shall take care of you. Just squeeze if you want to go faster with both legs, sit back in your saddle if you want to slow and pull back on the reins to stop. You can use the reins to steer if you like, but I imagine you will be more used to using your legs against her side."

Elek nodded, he looked almost comical on such a large horse and saddle, "I've only ever ridden my pony bareback, sir." Looking as nervous as anything does, he squeezed his legs and the mare started in a bouncy trot, Elek bouncing around in the saddle before he got used to the movement. Tika followed at an uncertain run.

The strange man and Ilona watched Elek ride off, and then he turned to her. She looked into those unreal eyes of blue, "It's a warm night. Ah, where are my manners, my lady? My name is Marcus Corvinus. Your son, his name is Elek, if I heard you correctly. He shows natural horsemanship. What do they call you?" Ilona stood completely still, they continued to stare at each other, she was unnerved that he had heard her whisper,

"I've heard of you, my lord," She said warily, sheathing her dagger in her belt, "Your father, he rules the rest of Hungary.. That is not ruled." Ilona could not even bear to speak Viktor's name, "Elek is my nephew. My name is Ilona. What brings you here, Marcus?" She asked, finally looking away to her feet, unable to stand the intensity of his gaze any longer. Marcus did not answer the question; instead, he kept watching her and spoke quietly,

"You were close with your brother?" His question was more of a statement,

"Yes, thick as thieves, all we had growing up was one another. He was a man above all men." She looked up at him. He smiled sadly at her,

"My brother William and I were the same." She nodded in understanding,

"He is dead." Marcus shook his head,

"No, very much alive. We are, ah, estranged, you might say." He finished awkwardly.

"You should talk to him, my lord, and set aside your differences, our lives are too short not to." Marcus seemed to find her advice amusing.

"Let us walk, my lady. Would you be kind enough to take me to your ruler, Viktor? You can keep my mare for the boy in gratitude." The young man said, as he hooked his arm around hers. She placed a hand on his muscular upper arm politely,

"You have paid enough, kind sir. Keep your horse. I will take you as far as the gates of the hill fort, but then I will have to leave you. It is getting late." He did not question her choice and they continued towards the hill fort in the dark, chatting mindlessly about things of no great importance. After the initial discomfort, they got along well; finding many small things in common, but Ilona still could not rid herself of the uneasiness in her stomach.

Finally, after their conversation had grown dull, and then silent, she summoned some courage, "You are different sir. Not like anyone I have ever met." He stopped still, as did she. They had reached their destination.

"You're very observant. You are also out of the ordinary. Something I cannot put my finger on." He smiled charmingly, "This is where we say our goodbyes. We probably will not meet in your lifetime. Take care of my horse, cherish that boy, and be wary of wolves and bright eyed men, my lady." What a strange parting message, Ilona thought, and stranger to come still. Marcus turned and kissed her full on the mouth, a strong, urgent, needy kiss. His lips were sweet yet metallic. Ilona did not move away, but she did not move closer either. Marcus ran a hand eagerly through her hair and down her neck. He moved his lips to her check, then her jawbone and down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. Then, he pulled away; his eyes had turned white blue. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, before he turned abruptly and was admitted beyond the gates. Ilona stood in shock.

* * *

><p>Viktor lay on his deathbed. Of this time in his life, he would mostly always remember the creeping cold on him. Even as he lay feverish and hot, he felt cold to his core. It was the strangest feeling. As illness raged war on his body, he could feel it and for once in his life, it was something he could not fight. He could not find the strength to move or even to open his eyes. He listened to the Shaman as he sat at the end of his bed, murmuring sacred words and he could smell the frankincense he burnt. Viktor would do anything for just a day, even a few more hours. He was not ready to die. He had so much to do. There was so much still to accomplish. He could no longer accept that he would die, that this was the end of the road and that he might not make it through the night. He was not afraid of death; he just did not want to experience it right now. In life, he had overcome all challenges and problems his own way and now, he could not overcome death, and he could not face death and fight it. It was inevitable and it waited for him tirelessly. It was his greatest adversary yet.<p>

Viktor heard the door open and stirred in the slightest. He heard the Shaman exchange words with someone, but could not hear them completely. It was as if he was under water, between the veil, his senses were no longer rooted in the land of the living. Flashes of light came before his eyelids and he shivered in anticipation. This was it. He grounded himself and his attention came back to his surroundings. He heard someone pull up a chair next to him and lean in over him, "Viktor? I am sorry, but I need your help." Viktor opened his eyes and saw the man that sat next to him. It was one twin son of Alexander Corvinus. Viktor was not sure which. He never could tell them apart. Nevertheless, this man looked very different from what he remembered. He was changed.

"I cannot help you, son of Corvinus." Viktor rasped in response, stating what he thought was the obvious,

"Oh, but you could. I could take your pain away Viktor. I could make you well again. I could even make you live forever. I could make your strength great, make you swifter, more vital, even more so then you were in your days of youth." Viktor looked up at the man, heavily lidded. The man's eyes were bright and shining. Viktor did not know why, but he knew that the promises this man made were true, or at least, he wanted to believe they were.

"Help a dying man then, and he will help you, in whatever way he can." Viktor said simply, closing his eyes once more.

He did not hesitate. The man's eyes went white blue and he sank his teeth into Viktor's neck. Viktor's skin was tough, his blood bitter and sickly tasting, but it was blood nonetheless, and the vampire drank greedily. Viktor's body froze up then he started to protest with what little strength he had left. With one hand, the man pinned Viktor's hands above his head and with his other, he clamped Viktor's mouth shut. Viktor's body continued to jump, twitch and move, so the vampire straddled him, all the while continuing to drink deeply from him. The feeding man felt Viktor's body begin to grow limp underneath him as he became weaker, he felt his pitiful groans underneath the palm of his hand and his blood did not flow so readily from his neck. He came away from Viktor's neck, wiping the blood that dripped from his mouth down his lips and down his chin. He let go of Viktor's hands and took his hand away from his mouth. Viktor gazed up at the man, in shock, barely alive, "What have you done to me?" He croaked, losing consciousness.

The powerful vampire sighed; Viktor was not going to make this easy, was he? After a deliberating moment, he backhanded Viktor across the face, taking great care not to crush his skull. Viktor gained consciousness with a start, looking up at his assailant to see him bite his own wrist and offer it to him. Viktor pulled a disgusted face, "Drink it or die. I am not fucking around." The man growled. The dying man beneath him still refused. The man shook his head and squeezed the blood from his wrist into Viktor's open mouth, at first Viktor continued to object, turning his head like a disobedient child, but he soon found a taste for it and began to drink from his wrist without prompting. The vampire grimaced then smiled, the sickness was in the Warlord's blood. He had taken to it like a newborn to the mother's breast. He grew stronger by the moment, until the man had to remove his wrist from Viktor's mouth, feeling himself grow weak. He moved from atop of Viktor and Viktor sat up in bed, looking around at the world with new eyes. Everything was brighter, different. The sights and the smells were stronger. There was perfect clarity in everything. The age was beginning to strip from his body, his organs renewing themselves,

"This is a gift!" He exclaimed, blood dripping from his mouth, which opened in awe.

"It appears so," The weakened man murmured bitterly, quietly. "I am Marcus Corvinus, Viktor, and we must feed before the night is through."


	5. My Only Love, My Only Hate

**My Only Love, My Only Hate**

"_My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late!"_ – Romeo and Juliet

Viktor and his soldiers were to leave on a journey of conquest. To everyone in the settlement, it seemed like a dying man's wish. They knew very little. Death had nothing to do with it. It was all to do with the capture of a supernatural beast of strength and virility. It was all beyond comprehension to mere mortals. A task Marcus was to undertake with the newfound help of Viktor. It was to find William, the werewolf brother of Marcus. There was a celebration held before the army was to head off, the civilians of the settlement believed this merely a celebration of the taking of new lands and drinking their fear of the arising plague away, where as in reality it was the celebration of the garrison's newfound immortality.

Bonfires lit, even though it was a warm night. Shadows were cast everywhere. Outside the people rejoiced in dance and drink. It was the ending of an era and the beginning of a new one. Ilona and Janos stood talking, watching the drunken chaos that was happening around them. The open sexuality, the war stories, the songs. The rowdy behavior was all the product of strong drink, nonetheless. They spoke in hushed tones; they were to leave tomorrow during the day. To them it seemed like they were the only ones who noticed the strange happenings about the settlement. The missing persons, the halving of the garrison and how all the surviving soldiers had changed. The place had become dead during the day, like a ghost town. Where the people so stupid, so blind, not to see that something terribly disturbing was occurring? The soldiers, possessing a terrible strength, preyed on the weak-minded mortals, the dwindling population. Normality had fled. Mass graves had risen all around the town. The people continued on, as if in a trance, trying to believe everything was still the same. That it was just sickness.

"I am over watching this. Let us go back to Elek and Zsuzi and retire Illy. We have a big day tomorrow." Janos murmured, sickened by his surroundings. Ilona nodded in response, she had seen her fill of this madness. The sooner they were gone, the better. She had also drunk her fill, since Andras death, she had taken to the bottle heavily to soothe her pain. The days and weeks had blurred into one in her mind, a sub reality. Everything was a drunken haze until she got out of this place. Ilona and Janos walked back to their dwelling. It was late in the night and Elek was asleep. Zsuzi was still awake, weaving quietly. She embraced and kissed Janos in greeting, smiling warmly but nervously at Ilona. Ilona threw herself down on a chair and Janos joined her. They sat in silence until Janos spoke, "I had the strangest dream last night. A man told me to leave this place, but I did not, then the monsters came. Grotesque wolves. The size of them. It was lunacy."

Ilona listened intently, then responded, "And then what..."

Before Ilona could finish what she had been saying and fathom the strange uncomfortable expression on Janos' face, the door opened. Ilona not only lost her train of thought, she lost all her coordination. Why had she not prepared herself for this possibility? Her chaotic, drunken mind wailed. How could she prepare herself? Prepare herself for a man that he left her boneless every time he looked her way, all the time she had spent with him. A man who had killed her love and her future husband. A man who was old enough to be her father, yet affected her twice as any men ever had. She was lost in a flurry of emotions, of hate, of anger, of nostalgia. Viktor. Their gazes had met and locked, this further swept her out of any sense of reality on a tidal wave of emotion. Like always. Why had nothing changed after the death of Andras? She had hated him so much in the time that she had not seen him, any reaction to him should have been mild or open fury. She had somehow convinced herself that the time she spent with Viktor was a brief part of her a life. A part that had no ground in reality, certainly not in her present or future.

Moreover, the truth was, she found him beautiful. He was dark, dangerous; her sense of the untamed was hidden, barely suppressed below his emotionless surface. Yet he had changed. His face was younger, but more shuttered than ever before, and impossibly handsome. Those bright eyes, they had been intensified to an ice blue. They seemed to hold all the mysteries in the universe. He had a long nose that flared slightly when he was mad, frustrated... or aroused. The features of his face seemed carved from stone. At one time, Ilona had known every line, each texture. She had actually believed she knew this man. She thought she knew the inner man who remained an enigma to everyone around him. She realized with sadness in her heart that she had loved him. She had never loved anyone how she had loved him. That she would have given him everything she had to give if he had only let her in more, if he was not capable of being so cruel.

Ilona sat in numb shock and Zsuzi stood, clenching and unclenching her fists. The noise of her teeth grinding could be heard in the awkward silence, Janos spoke, "Greetings, sire. What brings you here? I thought you had no need of me anymore." He spoke the truth, Viktor had not called on him since the strange visitor Marcus had come to the settlement and the even stranger events that had followed. Viktor inclined his head; a small smile graced his lips. White fangs flashed, a moment short enough to question whether they were there, but long enough to know they were.

"I have come to formally apologize and give my sympathies to the Lady Zsuzsanna. It was a horrible situation, but surely in time you will see why it had to end that way." He looked straight at Zsuzi, who visibly shied away, refusing to look into the face of what she saw as pure evil. "I regret it has taken this long for me to come to you, but as I was ill and arranging many of my affairs, it was not my first priority." Ilona shook with barely concealed anger, all thoughts of love and tenderness for her leader had vanished, not his first priority? The silence in the hut was thick. The only people present who were not visibly uncomfortable were Viktor who stood blasé as can be and little Elek, who was asleep.

"That was kind of you to think of those as common as us." Janos read Ilona's expression and did not want this to end bloodily, especially seems he believed Viktor was possessed by some kind of evil spirit. "I wish you best on your endeavors, my lord. We will also be leaving tomorrow, seems you have no need for my skills anymore and we are a family now." Janos gestured to the two women, and small boy.

"Then I wish you all the best in your journeys. I thank you for your attentions, Janos. I will take my leave." Viktor turned gracefully and left the hut, slamming the door behind him. Zsuzi let out a deep breath and put her head in her hands, crying as Janos comforted her. Ilona just sat, staring off into space, muttering ancient curses under her breath.

* * *

><p>"You are a coward!" Ilona roared as she burst into Viktor's quarters. Viktor abruptly turned to look at her, his eyes were intense, burning into her, questioning her. Why was she here? Did she want to die? He watched her shake with her anger, her facial features trembling, and her fists clenched. Caught between being amused and angry, he wanted to brush all feeling he had for this woman away now, why did she have to make it so difficult? He had allowed some weakness and tenderness develop for her, but that was then, and this was now. There could no longer be anything between them. He had thought he was going to die and had sought comfort in her, the reassurance of a wife or perhaps a daughter, things he had never had the chance to experience. Now he had a lifetime or more for things such as these. Everything was so uncertain.<p>

Instead of reacting violently, Viktor coolly asked as he moved closer to her, "Why am I a coward?"

Ilona did not seem to back down, "You couldn't even accept death. Andras was more a man than you will ever be!" She yelled. Without warning, Viktor stalked the rest of the distance between them. He could hear Ilona's breath stuck in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest, the blood rushing through her whole being. He could smell her fear, her excitement, and her anger. He was overcome. He should not have let himself come closer to her. He walked straight past her, slamming and locking his door. Ilona's fear amplified and she backed away from where he stood, pulling out her dagger, her eyes flashing from place to place, kill him or run? Viktor saw her swallow nervously and he came close to her, he felt ravenous hunger in his stomach, his mind was screaming at him to back away, his body telling him he needed this.

Viktor grabbed her wrist that belonged to her hand, which was clutching her dagger. He took it in a crushing grip, and then proceeded to rip her shawl off. Ilona dropped the dagger, but her eyes never left his face. "Why can't you leave me alone, girl?" Viktor asked in a low voice. Then Viktor undressed the rest of her body, carefully, gracefully and laid Ilona down on his bed. She seemed stunned, overwhelmed, her chocolate brown eyes watching him. "You're so beautiful." Viktor said, drinking the sight of her in. Her ample breasts, flat toned stomach, large hips, soft, muscular thighs and the neat package that lay between them. Even her tiny feet were amazing, her tiny hands. They astounded him. However, most of all her neck, her slender, swans-like neck, the perfect pale flesh of it. He understood that love was a power and force of a different order from anything else beneath the sky, and could demolish not merely family relations or notions of right and wrong but also what was real and what was not.

Tears sprung in her eyes and Ilona sat up. Viktor was quick to wipe them away, and then he leaned over her, kissing her, a soft, tender kiss, a short testing-the-waters kiss. "I'm sorry, for what I have done." He murmured quietly, as he pulled away and she nodded, as if this was enough. This time she kissed him, and it was long, hot, needy, their tongues brushed. Passion, need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her. Viktor had become so hard. She pulled off his ceremonial armor, as if she had done so all her life, and took off the shift that lay underneath. She had difficultly pulling his pants off, and giggled. Viktor thought it was the most gorgeous sound he had heard in a long time, and helped her frantically, and then his undergarments. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, but she did not have much time to think as Viktor kissed her deeply and ran his hands through her thick hair, grabbing her head. She was his. He pushed inside of her and she gasped. He was not sure if he had hurt her, but when she moaned into his mouth, he knew that she wanted this as much as he did.

Then she took him all inside of her, and he began to thrust, finding her tight, wet, and ready. She wrapped her legs around him and he became deeper. There noises of pleasure mingled together, the sweat poured of their bodies. Time and space became non-existent. Ilona began to tremble underneath Viktor; he felt her muscles contract and Ilona's mouth emitted a deep, low moan as she clutched her teeth together. Viktor could not help himself and just as his fangs touched her neck, he came into her with a low animal grunt. Once the pleasure had subsided and his body left with a warm glow, he took his mouth away from her neck and realized he had not even punctured the skin. Even when he lost himself in the moment, he could not bear to harm her. She looked up at him, unafraid, and said dreamily, "I can't help it. I love you Viktor."


	6. Sweet Sorrow

**Sweet Sorrow**

Ilona awoke in Viktor's arms. By the sounds of nature outside, she could without doubt determine it was early hours of the morning. She also knew she must move. Janos would be vexed. It was like waking up from a dream. Alternatively, waking into a dream? Her grip on reality had faded. Had she lost her mind? She guessed she could shrug it off on drunkenness, but that was a terrible excuse. However, as she gazed over at the sleeping Viktor all she could feel was affection in her heart.

She was not frightened, just bewildered at what she was going to do. Her and Janos had decided together to move on from the village today, but what now? She did not want to leave Viktor but she did not want to leave her family either. She felt on some personal level she had betrayed Zsuzi and of course Andras. She cast thoughts of Andras from her mind, which would only make her cry. She was done being angry. At this moment, she was done with everything. All she wanted was to be happy and right now Viktor made her happy. Why must everything be so confusing? Would her life ever be simple? Answers to these questions she did not have. Therefore, she did the practical thing and began to dress herself again.

Viktor woke as of her movements. They both looked at each other. In the darkness, his eyes shone. It was if their gazes would never break. They say a picture paints a thousand words, but Ilona thought that was equally true for glances. She was the one to break the eye contact, as she looked almost shyly down at her hands. Viktor grasped her hand and kissed her fingertips, still looking at her. Ilona could neither control nor compose herself and started kissing Viktor again. He kissed her back gently. He was tender, sweet. Words Ilona would have never thought to use to describe him.

Ilona was the first to pull away. She held his hands in her hands, finding them warm and no longer as weathered or aged looking. What had he become? Ilona was not sure if she really gave a damn anymore. To be honest, she was not even sure what she believed. However, she knew right now that she needed to get back to what was now her family. "I must go, my lord." Ilona murmured, as Viktor massaged her hands in his own.

She was so confused, but as Viktor sat watching her, it was as if he saw right through her. It was as if he could see the emotional turmoil that defined this moment for her and he understood. Ilona never thought Viktor would be introspective. However, she also never thought she would share his bed. If everything happened for a reason and fate had guided her here then there must be a greater purpose, a greater reason to this all. It was against all logic that she loved this man. It was against everything she stood for. He was cruel where she was kind. Was he so cruel?

The way he looked at her spoke volumes, of pain, of loving and of longing. In that moment, Ilona knew that he cared for her and he was of course capable of more than hate. Ilona decided in that moment that she was not going to regret what had happened between them last night. The Gods had brought them together for a reason, whatever that reason may be, and she would feel no shame in being the Warlord Viktor's lover.

"I know. As must I tonight, leave. Please stay and wait for me to return. I will explain everything to you." Viktor swallowed, his face a picture of concern, of a man speaking the truth, of a man speaking with his heart. Viktor spoke before her, not as a warlord or an immortal creature of immense power, but as a man, asking her to let him love her. He loved her and now that he had a new life, he wanted her to be part of it. He would turn her in a moment if that were what she wanted.

He knew now he could not bear to be apart from her. The time since Andras' death that they had not spoken had been horrible to him. He often found his thoughts dwelling on this young woman. He could not stop thinking about her. To look at her made him happy, to hear her voice overjoyed him and to hear her laugh or see her smile warmed his heart. "I will make things right. You stood by me when I was weak. Give me a chance to let me show you how much you mean to me."

Ilona nodded. She knew her answer was yes before he had finished speaking. Everything just seemed right. She was not afraid. She had spent her life using her head; it had gotten her nowhere, so now she decided to use her heart. Above all things, she respected Viktor, deeply and truly. She knew he would do the right thing. He always had done the right thing for his people. He may have not been the sweetest or most caring of men, but at least he did what he thought was best for those who relied on him for peace.

"I don't forgive you for what you did Viktor. Perhaps I never will. But I understand why you did it and I know even if it was the wrong thing to do in my eyes you did it for the right reasons in yours." Ilona pulled away from him and stood, continuing to dress herself. "I don't really know why or whether I have lost my mind, but I will be here when you get back. Please don't take too long." Ilona tried to be cold, but when he smiled at her, she could not help but smile back. She turned to leave.

"Ah, Ilona, may you please pull the curtains before you open the door?" Viktor gestured to the makeshift curtains strung up half way across the room.

"Of course I can do that, my Lord." Ilona mock curtsied to his unusual request, before drawing the curtains and leaving. Viktor lay back down, pulling the blankets over his body. He was trying to think what it was about Ilona that captured him so, but could not put a finger on it as a million things came to mind. This was love, he guessed, with a sigh, as he rolled over and tried to sleep the day away. When darkness came, he would rise.


	7. Dreaming (Az Intervallum)

**Authors Note: I apologize for the terrible lateness and am grateful for all the lovely reviews and support. Chapter Eight and Chapter Nine are near finished so will be uploading them soon. This is just a little intermission, rah rah rah rah. Thank you, enjoy. Ignore the Atreyu lyrics if you must, they were just too fitting for me to skip over.**

**Chapter Seven - Dreaming (Az Intervallum)**

_"I am the walking dead heartbreaker, my apologies. I am happy you will never understand what it is like to be trapped under six feet of solid glass. I can see out, but no one gets in. Screaming at this prison, I have locked myself into, I am sorry that I am still breathing and that I will kill again. The loneliness is too much for me to handle, but the taste of fresh blood pushes me on, the fear of romance, the pain of living, the joy of sorrow and the strength of not forgiving. I told myself the constant pain would ease the tension burning inside, but the nights were cold and the days dragged to weeks. I will die here alone - I will die. Gods help me, I am so tired, but in my dreams, the wolves eat out my soul. Gods help me, I am so frightened, but in my dreams, wolves tear out my heart. I used to be golden, a saint in a time of sorrow, but then the turning came and I kissed the sun goodbye. Don't you get it? It is always darker in my eyes, the screams of my brothers, egging me on." _– Atreyu

One awake, two asleep, the way of the Chain, the arrangement that controlled the reign of Marcus, Viktor and Amelia. Simply put, the Chain killed two birds with one stone: firstly, it was a clever power-sharing agreement among the three Elders, avoiding fighting amongst them by ensuring that only one of them was in control in any given century; and second, it granted each Elder a much-needed reprieve from the burden of immortality. Viktor hated the chain. If he had his way, he would be in command in every given century, but held back by Marcus' lie; he was awake one century and asleep for the other two, rinse and repeat. Keep the peace. Lord Viktor of Moldavia the Peacekeeper was a laughable concept, but self-preservation was a driving force.

Viktor did not take pleasure in his "much-needed respite from the demands of eternity." For within those two centuries, he was permanently dreaming, which sounds blissful, except most of Viktor's dreams were his memories, many of them replayed in exact detail – most of Viktor's memories qualifying for nightmares, not dreams. Fulfilment of every sense occurred, until reliving the past became a reality. He had more than enough lifetimes of memories to replay, a lot of them he wanted to pretend did not exist. Every time he was put in stasis, he forgot he was dreaming, not actually experiencing. Every time he would be plunged into the darkness, ripped away from his visions, he remembered everything, not knowing anymore if he had won or lost, lying as a dried out corpse that could not shed a tear. The memories of his beloved wife Ilona and daughter Sonja were ever bittersweet; they could bring even the immortal to tears. Even though Viktor viewed immortality as a gift above all others, he was not immune to its boundless tragedies.

Viktor was the most fearsome of Elders, a skilled, arrogant, brutal, ruthless, rule breaking and charismatic leader, power-hungry and manipulative. His history and memories haunted him in such a way the he took steps to alter history by changing textbooks. He banished historian Tanis as he knew the truth and Viktor himself still could not live with it.

His obsession with the purity of the bloodlines led to nothing but heartache. His fixation on blood purity was so great that he considered his victory over Lycans to be only natural, viewing them as nothing more than animals and slaves. Extreme measures were taken to prevent a hybrid "abomination" ever existing. Despite ordering her execution, Sonja's death haunted Viktor for the rest of his life, especially when he "dreamt". The immense guilt led him to sparing Selene from the murder of her family due to her striking resemblance to Sonja, raising her as his heir in all but name.

Gratitude was not his style, it was only shown to those who were closest to him and rarely. Both in his immortal and mortal lives, was difficult to love. Alternatively, more the fact, he did not want to be loved, he wanted to be feared. He figured if he had less love and trust in his life, then the possibility of hurt decreased. However, he found himself loving and trusting again, countless times – sometimes humanity is difficult to shake. Nevertheless, he still always wanted his back to his wall, so his so-called allies would have to take him on face to face, not deftly take off his head from behind.

A secret shame was that he could not sate his thirst for blood, he continued to attack and feed directly on humans even after it was outlawed. He could not master the willpower to control it, he was born a warrior so bloodlust like humanity was also difficult to shake. In spite of this, he forced Vampires to strictly follow the Council rules, quick to punish or kill anyone who dare disobey.

To put it lightly, Viktor had centuries of regretting his actions, protecting his own pride and lying about the past to review in his slumber.


	8. The Impaler

**Viktor the Impaler**

_Dining amidst a field of gallows and impaled prisoners. _Ilona read the line a few times by candlelight, letting it sink in; as if she was hoping, it would change or disappear. _A reputation for excessive cruelty. _Was she really reading this or was it a dream? A few days after the lovemaking and the army's departure, Ilona had grown bored with the inactivity in the settlement and had begun reading. Janos had decided to delay the departure until he felt "at peace" with the surrounding forests energy, whatever that meant. She had since run out of books to read and had stumbled upon a hidden wooden chest of Janos'. There had never been any secrets between her and Janos, until now of course, so naturally she began to read the texts that were the contents of that barely locked chest.

It turned out that most of the texts were detailing the mortal history of Viktor - _a tyrant that took sadistic pleasure in torturing and killing, a monster so cruel he needed to be stopped. _Ilona felt like she could not make the connection with the written words to her brain anymore, the connection to the man she knew, the man she thought she loved. She did not know any of this. Yes, she knew Viktor was a determined leader and fighter, but she did not know any of this. Of course, she knew that everyone who knew him was frightened of him, but she thought it was more respect then plain out fear. Apparently, according to written word, Viktor's actions went beyond justice or fairness.

Some of the stories said the number of victims he had killed was more than Ilona could imagine. In addition to those victims, he also had whole villages and fortresses destroyed and burned to the ground. All this in the name of peace? This was not peace, thought Ilona, this was just raw power. _An invading army turned back in fright when it encountered thousands of rotting corpses _– on the banks of this very settlement that Ilona, Elek and Janos had come to live. _An enemy noted for his own psychological warfare tactics, returned after being sickened by the sight._ Ilona felt like she was going to throw up. The macabre sketching in these texts did not help, let alone the factual detail she could see in the Warlord's armour, the very armour she had taken off only a few nights ago. Ilona ran from the clearing where she was reading the books to fall on her hands and knees, her stomach promptly emptying itself of a bottle of wine.

Like a soldier, Ilona wiped her mouth and the tears that were trying to invade her weary eyes. The books were like a drug and she forced herself to read them, full of self-hatred and feelings of betrayal. They are all lies, they are all lies, they have to be all lies, Ilona kept repeating to herself in her mind. "You know this is not truth," she murmured to herself. However, if that was the case, then why did she feel so ill? Why did she want to keep on reading and question Janos on the books as soon as she saw him?

Reading the locally written stories about the Warlord was a little like a salve on the wound. They seemed to portray him in a much more positive light: depicting him as a great ruler, a hero, a brave soldier and justly reigning. The stories of atrocities in these volumes were justified as the actions of a strong ruler, using harsh yet fair methods to reclaim land from the corrupt and rich. _And he hated evil so much that, if anyone committed some harm, theft or robbery or a lye or an injustice, none of those remained alive. Even if he was a great or an ordinary man, or even if he had a great fortune, he could not pay himself from death._ Ilona thought of Andras sadly.

_Viktor sat on the throne and all came to pay respect, and brought many gifts and they went back to their houses with great joy. Viktor with the help of Heavens grew into much good and honor as long as he kept the reign of those just people._

Then Ilona found the poetry, which was her favorite form of writing to read. In these Romanian poems, he was painted as a fierce warrior, a figure to contrast with decay of society, suffering of the poor and that his violent methods were a cure. _To come, to sort the contemporaries into two teams: fool and rotten and then set fire to the prison and to the fools' home. _Ilona had a cold shiver to that. Setting people alight, impaling them and decapitating them was not a cure for anything, she thought, rolling up parchment and calmly throwing it back into the chest. She sat there in silence for a moment. She truly did not know what to think. She was really too drunk to think at all, she thought. Damn drunkard, just like your parents, damn whore – the words echoed through her head, hollow, they lost their sting a long time ago but she still liked to kick herself in the teeth now and again.

Before she had time to argue with herself, hate herself even more, or feel nauseous about Viktor's recorded pastimes, she was having her hair scuffed up by a rough brutish hand. "Reading old war stories and drinking out here in the forest Miss Imre, what have I done to you?" Ilona recognised Janos' voice and his rich laughter, "Bit of a character, our late ruler."

"Late?" Ilona questioned, tilting her head back awkwardly to gaze at the unkempt creature that was Janos, her oldest friend.

"Well, he might as well be dead really... the trading of his soul for personal gain is an obvious event and when we move on from this place, we will never have to see him again or hopefully hear about him." Janos sat down on the wooden chest next to Ilona, patting her on the shoulder in what he thought was a comforting way as she looked at her feet. "What's up dearie? Do you have the spins? You don't look well." Janos held her shoulders, turning her to face him and trying to look into her eyes. Ilona continued to look at her feet. "There's something you're not telling me, spit it out Illy."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"A problem shared is a problem halved."

"I don't have a problem."

"I know what you did. I know how you feel. I know it is all just part of their cursed nature... these unnatural creatures."

"No, you don't. You don't know of anything!" Ilona suddenly shouted and standing up so suddenly that Janos, the big man, almost fell off his chest. She stared down at him angrily, shaking, on the verge of tears, but too stubborn to cry.

"Illy, come on. You can talk to me. It's Janos here, remember?" he reached out to hold her hand, "I am your best friend. I love and care about you."

"Please," a tear ran down Ilona's face, "Please, just leave me alone. I know you mean well, but just leave me alone."

Janos stood up and brushed his garb off, as if cleansing himself of some evil, "We're leaving in the tomorrow. Elek, Zsuzi and I," he had obviously had enough and was raising his voice, "whether you come or not is your decision, but I will not let you put yourself, or all of us really, in danger. I know you haven't been well, I know you haven't been well for a long time, but you've got to fix up the holes in your mind before the demons crawl into them and nest."

Ilona snorted with almost hysterical laughter, "Demons! There are no demons Janos, only men. Evil does not exist, only good choices and bad choices. Morality, it's all just a concept isn't it?"

"I don't want to fight with you. You are drunk. You do not even know what you are saying anymore or what you are doing. You are not well enough to know what you want Illy, or what is best. Let me look after you."

"Seriously, go away Janos. Just leave me alone. I am well and truly sick of your nonsense, is what I am. I can look after myself well enough; I have been doing it long enough." Ilona pushed the bigger man away as he stared dumbfounded at her, "You can't take Elek away from me!" She finished for effect.

"You smell like vomit, dirt and wine," Janos spat and turned to leave, "Clean yourself up and come back by the morning, I mean it. Do not throw away everything you have strived to protect for a monster. You may have lost your mind Ilona, but you are not stupid and I know you care. I know you will do what is right." Janos left, leaving Ilona alone in the forest, feeling more lost and confused than ever.

Ilona did what seemed reasonable to her intoxicated mind and kicked the chest. She then proceeded to rip up and burn all of the texts on Viktor.

As if it would make it all go away, as if it would make it all right.


	9. Eyes of Cobalt & Foaming Maws

**Eyes of Cobalt & Foaming Maws**

"Where we seek him, he is never there, only verification that he has been there. Your rabid dog kin has left an appalling amount of...disease...to be cleansed Marcus." Viktor addressed the man who had turned him; both of them were mounted on horses atop a hill. They were looking down at the first Death Dealers as an afflicted township was taken to torch. It would be morning soon. The son of Corvinus did not satisfy Viktor's insult bordering comment with a response; instead, he looked on in well-hidden misery. Instead Viktor continued the conversation himself, currently pleased with how his life was panning out, "I suppose that was our deal though, I help you find your brother and kill his spawn, you give me life. I think I definitely got the winning hand in our bargain." Viktor chuckled, his breath white in the air. Marcus knew he would be grinning, but would not turn his head to look at him. He had a great urge to king-hit him or even bury his sword deep into his heart, but he pushed those feelings aside. He needed Viktor. He needed his experience, his knowledge and his army.

Lady Amelia trotted up on her steed, a grim expression on her youthful beautiful face, her carriage as haughty as ever. Marcus looked upon her as a welcome interruption, often the mediator between the two headstrong men on the journey so far. It was as if she felt a disturbance in the atmosphere, as if everything was an argument away from going to hell. She took her helmet off and made her horse stand between the two other Elders, "We must seek shelter, Lords."

"Yes, indeed. There is an abandoned fortress close by, conveniently provided by Viktor in his past life." Marcus chuckled as his own jest.

"I know. I am so very thoughtful."

"Indeed, you are a man of great compassion and love for your fellow countrymen."

Amelia pushed Marcus in the shoulder playfully, but the look she gave him was a worried _do not cross the line, please _glance, "Now boys, quit playing, it's time for bed."

"Oh yes, my Lady." Marcus said cheekily, touched by her concern, reaching out with his free hand to touch hers. Her beautiful face always cheered him so. Amelia winked at him.

"I'm going to...round up my men...our men." Viktor informed the pair awkwardly.

As he began to trot away, Amelia called out to him, "Viktor!"

"Yes, Amelia?"

Marcus was the one to give her a warning glance this time and whispered, "He doesn't need to know." Amelia nodded in agreement.

"Oh, nothing, never mind." Amelia yelled to Viktor.

"Ah, what do I not need to know? As now you've just made me curious."

"Oh fuck, I forgot he could hear me now. Shit." Marcus rubbed his temples.

Amelia laughed girlishly, realised she did not really have to yell and spoke quietly, "Werewolves reported, near your settlement. We can head back tomorrow night if there is anything or anyone of importance there." The way Amelia pronounced anyone and pouted her lips made Viktor know she knew of Ilona. He was not sure what to make of her men's report, but still felt disturbed.

"Very well, we shall. Goodnight Amelia," Then Viktor glared at Marcus, "Marcus."

* * *

><p>Ilona woke with her heart racing and the cold sweats – looking around at her surroundings she realised she must have fallen asleep in the forest. Unsure what had woken her, only knowing that it was loud, she rose to a crouch, pulled out her dagger and took in her surroundings. Then she could hear the distant screaming and the howls of wolves from the settlement. She bolted her way through the trees, unsure of what was happening, but surprisingly cool and collected. Instinct had taken over. Flight or fight response, and of course, Ilona would fight. As she came to the edge of the forest, she stopped still in shock, the second time that night that her brain could not comprehend what she saw for a moment. The second time she wondered if she was just having a nightmare.<p>

Black, hideous creatures that looked like they were a cross of wolves, human and ape were ransacking the town, killing or eating every human they encountered. William, the father of all werewolves was at the forefront of the invasion with his whiter, more lupine, larger form and white rabid eyes. A few humans were fighting back, but most of the warriors had left with Viktor, those who survived the virus of course. Ilona ran towards her wrecked hut, already attacked. She made her way carefully inside the crumbling doorway, she needed to make sure her family was okay, and find her brothers sword. She found Janos lying on the floor, sweating so much he looked as if he was cooking alive. Next to him was the body of one of the beasts, with a gaping wound in its skull, its brains spilling out.

"Janos!" She ran to him and knelt by his side, inspecting where a large chunk of his arm was missing, still holding a sword loosely in its grip. The wound was bleeding profusely; already looking like it was festering. His skin was boiling hot and he seemed delirious. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _wailed Ilona's brain as clumsily wrapped his arm, the bandage already soaked in blood and sweat by the time she was finished.

She turned around in horror to watch the body of the wolf-beast turn into a young, naked, dead woman. Janos was laughing hysterically; neither were helping Ilona's problem solving process or her growing fear, "The wolves, they came! I told you, I told you," he slurred, as if he was drunk, high, or both, "Always knew a bitch would kill me, ha ha ha." Ilona knew then that Janos would not die, he was beginning to lose his mind, and he was beginning to change.

"Where are Elek and Zsuzi?" Ilona cried, "Please Janos."

Janos grew quiet and looked at her seriously, as if he was thinking about his response. Before he could say anything, his body began to convulse and he began to froth at the mouth like a rabid dog, twisting, twitching and shaking that badly Ilona thought his spine would break under the pressure. Ilona grabbed the sword he had dropped, trying to bring herself to put him down. She saw his face and skin were beginning to change, to morph and darken, hair beginning to sprout.

Before Ilona could put Janos out of his misery, a beast picked her up from behind, she managed to hack part of its head off before she was thrown into the side of the hut. The building finally collapsed and she became trapped beneath a wooden beam from the roof. _This is the end_, she thought, before passing out from her head injury, loss of blood and pain.


	10. Welcome to the Underworld

**Welcome to the Underworld**

"Although she has not been bitten by Lycan-kind, Ilona will die. Her pulse is near nonexistent. I will not turn her. You are too late Viktor." Marcus spoke nonchalantly, surveying the ruins of Viktor's home settlement as he placed his hand on Viktor's shaking shoulder, an action of play comfort. The air stank of burning buildings, flesh and blood. The carnage was overwhelming, William's gift to humanity. Shouts and other sounds of combat rang out as the Death Dealers exterminated what Lycans they could find in the perimeter.

"The girl cannot die!" Viktor shouted, as he pushed Marcus away. He had grown so strong. Viktor crouched over Ilona's body; he had dragged her from the burning ruins. Her ears were bleeding, her lung was punctured and her breaths were coming out ragged, as Viktor attempted to stop her unconscious form from choking on her own blood. Her other wounds were grievously deep.

Eyes glowing, Marcus spat, "I'll give you time to mourn your whore." Then he wandered off to find Amelia arrogantly.

Viktor fell down on to his knees, sat Ilona up and held her close, rocking her softly. As he closed his eyes, he was hating and cursing himself. He was too late. He left her here. This was his fault. She was going to die. Softly and grief-stricken, he began to sing chokingly, his eyes glowed white blue. "_It is only a little child that you are, but as this blossom has roots in the depths of the sky, so you are one with the Other World." _

He kissed her and tasting blood, he sunk his teeth into her neck. Desperately, he held himself back from fully draining her, sliced open his wrist with his knife and held it to her mouth. Once her mouth was full with a mixture of his and her blood, he massaged her throat, tilting her head back, trying to make her swallow. After a slight, weak struggle, Ilona stopped breathing. Viktor realized bitter-sweetly that by trying to save her he had drowned her in blood.

He clutched her lifeless body to his chest and for the first time in quite possibly ever, he began to cry. He screamed and shouted. He cursed the Gods, he cursed himself, he cursed Marcus, he cursed Ilona's stupidity for loving him, but above all, he cursed the Lycans.

Miraculously, he felt a strong heartbeat begin next to his own and a small voice choked against him, "Is this the Underworld? Have we made it to Hell?" Viktor leaned Ilona away from him. Shocked, watching as her wounds began to heal slowly, her skin becoming perfect ivory, her eyes changing from chocolate brown to blue. Her pupils were wide, in the state of dreamy euphoria that turning caused. Grabbing her roughly, Viktor pulled the piece of wood from her lung, laughing manically, and she did not even wince.

"No, we are alive, my silly gyermek." Viktor grinned, throwing away the blood soaked piece of wood, then holding her face in his hands as she gained enough strength to sit up by herself. Ilona traced the wound in her chest with her fingers, feeling her ribs cracking into place and fusing together once more. She pulled her face from Viktor's fingertips, enthralled visage, and looked around her.

"Elek? Janos? Zsuzi?" Ilona questioned, fearing the worst and hoping they had all been put down painlessly if they were turned into the wolf-monsters she had seen.

"We have not found their bodies in the wreckage so far." Viktor answered bluntly.

Ilona looked enraged, "We have to find them! They are my family and I left them alone to die!"She tried to stand, but found she could not just yet, the fractures in her lower limbs still healing. Viktor grabbed her hands and pulled her into an embrace once more.

"I promise you, we will." He whispered into her ear, knowing that they would be most likely unrecognisable anyway, "Stay calm for now, you must heal."

"What have you done to me, Viktor?" Ilona was afraid, her body shaking as she tried to push him away from her. He was a monster. Had he made her a monster now?

"I have given you a gift, my Huntress. The Hunt will last us eternal, just like the stories." Viktor spoke, so happy she was alive, so self absorbed, he was oblivious to her obvious anger and discomfort.

"Except in the stories, we are hunting in the heavens with our ancestors. This is unnatural." She looked up into his eyes, almost glaring at him. She wanted answers and she wanted them now. Viktor did not have them for her; it was too early to know what their condition meant.

"Don't stress for now, the answers you seek will all come in good time. Just rest here, I'll find you something to eat, okay?" He smoothed her bloody raven hair back from her face.

Ilona made protesting noises as Viktor stood to leave her. He walked away, ignoring her, a smile on his lips still. From his point of view, everything was perfect and he was a God. He was high on his own power. From Ilona's point of view, she might as well have been in the Underworld now.


End file.
